


The Man With Expensive Clothing and Cheap Cologne

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chicago (City), Coffee, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Kissing in the Rain, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 13:14:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8534548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hux meets the Man With Expensive Clothing and Cheap Cologne at the art museum. He is then offered coffee by this incredible stranger, this dashing specimen of mankind! Why, it's an invitation he's simply unable to refuse!(that's because it's free)





	

“Bad day?”

The man on his right has spoken. His tone is rich, steadfast. There's no hesitation. It's almost melodic, almost nasally.

Hux can smell his cologne. It's strong. Not earthy, just something cheap that's supposed to smell expensive. Obviously, it's not working.

He looks over the man, rakes his eyes up and down his figure. He's hunched over a bit, his overgrown scarf emphasizing the plunge of his slouch. His clothes are all black, and unlike his cologne, they actually do look expensive. How peculiar.

“Do I know you?” Hux asks as politely as he can. There's a strain on the end of it, though.

Damn it all. He'd tried.

Because he was, in fact, having a terrible day. The art museum had taken down the very piece he'd come to see. With no warning! And just the night before he'd arrived in Chicago! He'd already ordered his ticket, of course, so there was no backing out of that.

Shame, though. The Rococo portrait was allegedly of a relative of his. Some obscure French noble, with an even more obscure name. He'd had to type it down on his phone to remember it.

“Hey, did you hear anything I said?”

Hux blinks back to reality. His sweater feels so heavy. Why does it feel heavy?

“No,” Hux says bluntly.

What? He's not going to lie. His mother had made him a Boy Scout, and Scout's Honor and all that.

The Man With Expensive Clothes and Cheap Cologne rolls his eyes. They scatter the moles that sprinkle his face. It's like a rolling sea. God, the art is getting to him.

“I'd asked if you'd seen the potatoes yet.”

Hux narrows his eyes at the stranger. Is he toying with him?

No, wait. There'd been something on the Guide about that. Modern art, no doubt.

“No,” Hux informs him. He's about to turn and leave -- maybe call a cab, there's no way he's staying in this museum after such a disappointment -- when the Man With the Things calls out,

“Wait! I'd like to treat you to coffee!”

And now Hux knows this Man (With the Things) is a hipster, and not even the kind with glasses, but he's offering a free beverage. Hux needs beverages to survive, and he loves free things.

He looks back at the empty frame, and looks up at the Man. He's offering a half-hearted smile. Does Hux seem that acrid? He hopes not. Then his father would be right, and he totally doesn't have Daddy Issues (he doesn't!) but he really couldn't give the Old Codger the satisfaction.

“Ok,” Hux agrees. “But only one coffee. And I owe you nothing.”

The smile erupts into a full-fledged, 10000-watt beam of rainbows and sunshine. It's disgusting and Hux almost takes back his previous statement until the Man (etc.) says, “Yes, _sir_!”

Hux startles at that, about to ask how the Man knew he was a military man, until the 10000-watt smile dropping into the 9900-watt zone alerts him to the fact that, actually, It Was Just A Joke.

He tries a laugh. (It feels unnatural.) The smile drops to 9000-watts.

 

* * *

 

They're in the basement of the museum, each of them clutching their tiny mugs (cheap, 'artisan’ coffee -- disgusting) when the Man blurts,

“I'm Kylo Ren.”

Hux raises an eyebrow, sips at his coffee. It needs cream and sugar. But _he_ 's drinking his black. Hux needs to counter that. He cannot look sad and soft now. Hux isn't sure why, but he knows that Phasma would say something inane like that and Phasma has had more girlfriends than Hux can count.

“You told the cashier your name was Ben Solo.”

“Oh, you caught that.” It's more of a resigned statement than anything. 'Kylo' sags a bit around the edges. “That's my birth name, but I can't stand it. It's my father's name, and I kind of want to kill him.”

There's an awkward pause.

Both of them awkwardly laugh.

 _Haha_.

“If it helps,” Hux offers, “I kind of want to kill my dad, too. Funny.”

“Yes, very,” Kylo agrees. He brings his mug to his lips and sips. It's not as refined as Hux's. _Slurp_.

“My name is Hux,” Hux tells Kylo.

He nods and doesn't look much impressed. Doesn't ask for his first name. Strange, but not unwelcome.

“So,” Hux says. He swings his legs a bit and tries to think of good, flirty questions.

Kylo is actually quite handsome, now that he thinks about it. Very voluminous hair. Strong nose. _Is this a date? What do you think of my sweater? Tell me about yourself. How do you get your hair like that?_

Instead of such fascinating questions, he stupidly asks, “Why are you at the museum?”

Stupid.

Kylo humors him, leans forward and says lowly, “I like the naked Greek and Roman art.”

Oh. That. Is weird. Is it supposed to be sexy? Maybe Kylo is just creepy. But he looks very earnest. Can earnest and creepy go hand in hand?

He is about to call it quits right now, immediately, when Kylo leans back all relaxed-like and says, “That was a joke. I'm here for the European armor collection.”

Oh! What a funny joke.

Hux tries on a laugh again.

Kylo looks concerned. Maybe he will call an ambulance.

Hux hurriedly schools his embarrassed features back to serious and tries to look like he's not literally dying.

“I was looking for my father,” Hux says seriously.

His ears burn red and his eyes actually water up because there is no way he said that.

“Ha! I am funny with the jokes, as well,” Hux says, but in his panic his English-ish accent starts slipping back in. Damn his English parents!

“You're British!” Kylo exclaims. Hux wonders, in his bizarre panic, if Kylo will throw him in the nearby harbor like a box of tea. He wouldn't be surprised, with this sort of day.

“I'm not! I grew up in the suburbs, in Naperville!” Hux tells him loudly.

The other patrons hear him. They look at him with disapproval and disappointment.

Hux tries, once more, to look like he is not literally dying.

He sits down. (When did he stand up?)

“Sorry,” Kylo says.

“It is fine,” Hux lies.

They finish their coffees in heavy silence. Hux can't stand the black coffee, not now, but it would look ridiculous if he went to get sugar and cream now. What a dilemma.

He throws back the rest of his coffee in a gulp. It is terrible. He is a real hero for finishing it.

Kylo sets his empty mug down as well. He looks very sad. Hux agrees.

“What now?”

That comes from Kylo. It's kind of muffled and mumbled, and his ears are all pink. Hux supposes the day has gone poorly for both of them.

He feigns checking his watch, really just wanting to get out of this peculiar pseudo-date. “I should go now,” he lies.

Hux is a dirty liar. Ruined his Scout's Honor twice in one day, already.

“Yeah. Same,” Kylo says, getting up to leave with Hux.

 _Good job_ , Hux thinks viciously. _You've made it even more awkward!_

It's maddening, but Hux is too polite to tell Kylo to shove off. He really wants to, though. He decides to imagine it in his head instead. There are many scenarios to go through, and the exit is away enough.

Except Kylo decides that talking is somehow a good idea!

He talks for a long time!

About a lot of things!

And, at the same time, nothing!

Hux does not care about bad Chinese restaurants!

He did not even know those existed!

What is a calamari!

Hux does not care!

What is a Star Track! Trek! Trick!

Hux does not want to know!

It is all even more sad, and Hux is very mad. How unpleasant.

There are outside the museum now, which is a bit of a shame. Hux had wanted to peek in the gift shop and get a postcard or something. Instead, all he has is a burning frustration and need to punch something.

“-- and that's why Charlie Chaplin is objectively better than Benedict Cumberbatch.”

“I agree!” Hux says loudly and suddenly, turning around to escape the awful, hipster annoyance that is Kylo Ren.

“Are you ok,” Kylo says very seriously.

“No,” Hux says.

It begins to rain.

Hux, idiot that he is, has no umbrella. Nor jacket. Dumb.

Kylo rummages around in his man purse and pulls out a black dollar store umbrella.

Because of course he has one.

It pops open, and Kylo holds it over Hux, who definitely does not turn pink and little mushy.

Except that he does, because he has a weak spot for nice things like that.

“Can I kiss you?” Kylo asks, and it's very earnest. Because of course it is.

Damn it to hell and back.

Nice things. Damn. It.

“Yes,” Hux says, mumbles, murmurs, breathes.

Nice, goddamn things.

The cold rain is sliding off the back of his neck and down his sweater, its coldness almost making him shudder, if not for the warmth that was standing next to a huge, attractive man.

An idiotic and bumbling and nervous one, but Hux can understand. Kind of.

A warm hand shields the back of his neck from the rain. There is nothing to be cold from anymore.

Everything is in slow motion.

His eyes are closed, but he can feel their lips growing closer. He hasn't been kissed in so long. He hopes he doesn't mess up.

Their lips collide.

(He doesn't.)

 

* * *

 

Hux laughs when they part for air, rain running down his face and dripping off his hair. (It's a real laugh! What progress!)

“Was it that bad?” Kylo looks very worried, and Hux wants to tell him that he looks ridiculous. There are raindrops clinging to his eyelashes, and his nose is a little red. His ears extremely red. His lips look swollen, too, which Hux can proudly say is his doing.

And both of them are soaked, with an umbrella fallen to the pavement beside them.

They look positively ridiculous, and positively romantic.

Nice things.

“No,” Hux says, cheerfully.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been to the Art Institute of Chicago exactly once. But Art Museum Kylux had to be written, so RIP my memory and vague descriptions
> 
> Still!! I hope y'all enjoyed!! Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
